‘It’ll be difficult to keep it under observation, and impossible from the car. But we can get a clear view from the beach. There are hardly any people about. Most of the houses must be holiday places; there’s no sign of life in any of them. No lights, no smoke from the chimneys.’
‘How long have you been there?’
‘Ten minutes, no more. Mario’s down watching the house now.’
‘Can you remember if the Harveys’ house has a chimney?’
‘Yes. It’s a newish place, two storeys. There’s a big picture window upstairs and a big feature chimney up one wall.’
‘Was it smoking when they arrived?’
‘It was, sir, it was! There must be someone else in there!’
‘Steady on, Maggie.’ He swung his feet out of bed and sat on the edge. ‘Don’t get too excited. There could be a local who comes in to light the fire before they arrive. Keep the house under surveillance, and I’ll contact DI Mackie. He and McIlhenney will bring up an overnight bag for you two. They’ll do tonight. You book into a hotel oraBand B or something, and relieve them again in the morning.
‘And, Maggie, book in on a Mr and Mrs basis. Remember this is a secret enquiry. I don’t want you looking out of the ordinary, and any couple booking separate rooms in a place like Earlsferry on a Saturday in winter will surely do that.’
Maggie snorted at the other end of the line. ‘McGiure’s just going to love that!’
‘You can handle it, Sergeant. Pull rank on him if you have to.’
‘Rank isn’t all I’ll pull!’ The line went dead.
73
Earlsferry sits alongside Elie on a wide bay which looks across the Firth of Forth to the beaches and hills of East Lothian. The gloaming of late afternoon had begun to obscure the coast opposite when Maggie Rose rejoined McGuire.
He was seated on a bench, his left arm looped along its back, ostensibly looking out to sea while covering the only exit from the Harvey cottage. He was in view himself from the far side of the picture window on the upper level of the house. Twice he had seen Joy Harvey framed in the glass.
Maggie sat down beside him and linked her arm through his. She relayed Martin’s orders. McGuire smiled awkwardly, surprisingly embarrassed
‘Huh,’ she said, ‘you might show a bit more enthusiasm.’ She pulled him to her and spoke into his ear. ‘Let’s try to play the part. Any sign of movement from up there?’
McGuire looked over her shoulder. ‘Damn all. I’ve seen her a couple of times, but no one else. We’re a bit open here, but we can see the gate. What do we do if they go out, split up?’
‘No we’ll have to stick together. We’re here as a couple, so we can’t keep dashing off in opposite directions all the time.’
‘I thought that’s what real couples did!’
74
Maggie and McGuire were no longer on their bench when Mackie and McIlhenney appeared, moving quietly down the lane, each clad in dark donkey jackets over thick polo-necked sweaters and police uniform trousers. They moved carefully in the dark, looking first towards the house, then at the moonlit beach.
‘Here, sir.’ Maggie Rose’s voice came from behind a clump of sand dunes. She and McGuire had moved from the beach as darkness had approached, to a point from which they could view both lane and house, without being seen from either.
Mackie and McIlhenney sat on the sand beside them. McIlhenney laid a brown paper carrier bag against the dune. ‘Thermoses and sandwiches, he explained to McGuire, who said nothing, but reached into the bag and brought out a half bottle of OVD rum.
‘What’s this then, hair tonic?’
‘It’s okay for you pair,’ McIlhenney grumbled. ‘We’re here a’ night.
‘No action?’ Mackie asked.
‘No, sir,’ said Maggie. ‘The upstairs curtains have been half drawn, like you see them now, since about four- thirty. The room’s dimly lit so we’ve only seen figures moving about; only two as far as we’ve been able to tell. No one’s been out since they arrived. The car’s never moved.
‘Do you want us to hang about for a while in case they get off their mark?’
‘No, Maggie, that’s all right. It’s after eight now. They’re not going back to Cumbernauld tonight. If they decide to go to the pub we’ll jus let them get on with it, unless more than two of them come out.
‘Your case is in the boot of my car. It’s parked behind yours. Which hotel will you be in, if we do need to contact you?’
‘We’ll book into that big grey one just off the main road. I think it was called “The Beachview”.’
‘It would be in a place like this. Okay, off you go. Be back here for eight sharp.’
75
The Beachview Hotel was a big rambling building, probably Victorian in origin. They entered through a newly built bar, in which three drinkers sat, each alone at his table. McGuire asked for reception and the barman pointed towards a doorway. ‘Through there, sir and round to your left.’
They followed his directions and found the check-in desk in a comfortably furnished hall. Two elderly ladies sat in chairs in the far corner, watching a large television set which needed an adjustment to its colour control, McGuire rang a brass bell, and seconds later a fresh-faced girl appeared.
‘Can we have an en-suite room for the night, please?’
‘Certainly, sir.’ She smiled at him, a shade knowingly. ‘Double or twin?’ He looked at Maggie.
‘Double,’ she said, returning the girl’s secret smile.
McGuire signed the register and the girl handed him a key. ‘Room 211 sir. Up the stairs and to your left. Dinner’s being served now, until ten o’clock. Breakfast starts at seven-fifteen.’
‘Even on Sunday?’ McGuire sounded surprised.
‘It’s for the golfers. We don’t finish until ten, though, so you’ve no need to rush.
‘The dining-room’s back through the bar, then straight on.’
Room 211 was clean and fresh and the fittings in the en-suite bathroom, though old-fashioned, were high quality, with a six-foot bath. Maggie plugged in the stopper and turned on the taps.
‘I was going to ask for a twin, you know,’ McGuire said, plaintively.
‘Sure you were. We’ve got to keep up the act, anyway. I know you’ll have slept on the floor before now, being as cosmopolitan as you are. Or that bath looks big enough for you.’
She flipped open the catches on the suitcase. ‘Let’s see what Brian’s brought us.’
She looked in. ‘Marks and Spencer best. Shirt, Y-s and socks for you, heavy sweater, skirt, underwear and etceteras for me. What else?
Deodorant, make-up, ok, shaving kit, toothbrushes and paste, shampoo, even a hairdryer. Presumably the SB slush fund paid for this lot.
‘I’m going to grab a quick bath.’
She found a newspaper in the bag, passed it across to him and disappeared into the bathroom. Mario glanced at the front page. He stretched out on the bed. Idly he glanced into the small suitcase, looked again. No nightclothes. He laughed, loudly enough for Maggie to hear through the heavy bathroom door.
